


occupation: the family disappointment (said with love)

by Anonymous



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: AU Where They Have Computers, Camboy Klaus, Dirty Talk, Drinking, Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Klaus is CHATTY, Klaus' Choking Kink, Masochism, Masturbation, Omorashi, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre Events of Season 1, Shameless Klaus Hargreeves, This Ain't an Angst Fic Though, Wetting, this is gross
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-12-29 22:37:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18303224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: In which Klaus is a camboy, and his Thursday night shows come in two acts.





	occupation: the family disappointment (said with love)

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry mom. Sorry that this is what I choose to use my writing skills for.
> 
> Also, re: the tags: this fic includes omorashi (getting off on like,,, having to piss), so.... please know what you're getting yourself into before reading. Also also, I'm in no way romanticizing drug abuse or Klaus' addiction issues, this is just.... more of a fun romp than anything sad or introspective, and my language is a LOT more casual and indifferent than I really feel about this subject. I guess I'm trying to emulate how Klaus would think of things? Don't actually do drugs or drink yourselves stupid, kids.

Klaus Hargreeves _loves_ sex. With all different kinds of people, including himself. He loves it so much, and considers himself to have so little skill in just about everything else, that when it comes to job prospects, and paying the rent in his shitty one bedroom (and making sure he’s stocked up on his ‘provisions’), well, nothing really beats the sweet little gig he’s built up for himself.

His brilliantly ridiculous username is xXSexySéance69Xx, which he thought of while on a _good one_ courtesy of some speed. Made him stupidly confident enough to start this whole thing, but now he tries to stick to just weed when he’s going on camera. Weed makes him the most chilled-out and sultry, and he just gets so many more tokens for more money when he’s taken a few puffs of the ol’ devil’s lettuce versus anything else (and he would know, he’s tried his shows with everything else).

He also very much appreciates the ironic nod to his Academy nickname, and hell, some of his most devoted regulars do too. Klaus goes for a slightly gothier style when he’s on camera, to really play up the fact that his powers seem mystical and badass to people who aren’t personally tormented with them. He fingered himself while wearing a black short skirt and fishnets with fingerless gloves and a crop top last show, and boy howdy, had that been a fun ride of textures and… okay, he’ll admit it, he may or may not have come to the sight of himself in the mirror across the room being oh-so-naughty in that little skirt.

His usual shows are well and good, they’re truly so good. He loves every bit of them. But then, there’s his Thursday night shows, and they’re a real horse of a different color.

Klaus hadn’t been sure of doing these at all, at first, despite how unbelievably horny this particular ritual made him. See, when he’d been a child, and his Pops had locked him in the mausoleum on multiple occasions, Klaus developed a problem with bedwetting. It got so bad that Grace had gotten him some of those ‘nighttime protective underwear,’ which is really just a coward’s way of describing sleep diapers. 

He supposed it was something that should have made him feel humiliated, but secretly? Klaus had eventually started wetting the sleep diapers on purpose, because he kind of liked the weird twisted rebellion of refusing to control himself. 

So, flash forward to being all of twenty-one years old, and Klaus suddenly remembers that weird fondness he’d had for pissing himself. And it’s not like he has very strong inhibitions, or limited time on his hands.

He’d gotten shitfaced drunk one afternoon, tried to hold his aching bladder for say, an hour or two. He’d actually managed to hold it for two and a half, but by that point, he’d been a whimpering mess sitting in his bathtub, unable to stop the little dribbles that eventually became a flash flood soaking all over him. He’d come in like, two strokes after that, slept like a baby all night (or, when he’d passed out at five pm anyways). The point was, it had gotten him off so good, Klaus knew he’d have to do many repeat performances.

Ben fucks off whenever Klaus does this or his camshows, thank Christ. Klaus just has to sweetly tell him that he’d like his ‘alone time’ now, and Ben understands, awkwardly vaporizing himself out of the room. His brother’s such a sweetheart.

Klaus really hadn’t imagined he’d find a legit following for this shizz. But one day, (one Thursday night), he’d purposely drunk a bunch of beverages because it made him horny to fill himself up like that, but forgot about his growing need to pee while starting up his show. His full bladder pounded insistently in his abdomen, made everything so much more… tender. Urgent. Some of his viewers started commenting on the way Klaus was shifting in place a little, taking stops to breathe and keep control over the mounting pressure, and yeah, a lot of them caught on to what his predicament was. And, much to his absolute shock, a good few of them found it hot.

He’d ended up letting a said few of them watch an extra show after the main one, and the rest, as they say, is history.

“See ya later, Ben,” Klaus says waving his GOODBYE hand and gives his laptop a significant glance.

“Ugh. Gross. Thanks for the warning, I guess.” And with that, Ben’s gone, and Klaus is left to begin.

He’s on a good high already, and he’s had… what, 700 mL of water? He can’t _only_ drink alcohol. As much as he’d like to, he’s fresh out of his second stint at a local rehab, and he doesn’t want to go back there again _too_ soon. Wants to give them some illusion that they’ve helped.

It’s getting tense down there, but nowhere near his limits. He’s got a six pack of beers to drink right next to him. It’s showtime.

“Well, hello,” he greets, smooth and steady. He’s lounging on his bed, feeling like one of those pretty old paintings of naked ladies in the museums he’d gone to a handful of times as a kid. So. many. messages! pop up for him, making him grin.

“You like my ‘fit tonight? I think I found a real stunner.” He’s got on the pants he loves the most, the tight shiny ones that lace up his legs and show a fun amount of skin down their sides. And his shirt is black, tight, with sleeves down to his elbows and one of those sexy cut necks that’s possibly meant to accentuate the chest of someone with boobs, but it looks just fine on Klaus as far as he’s concerned. He’s got a choker with a little ring on it, fingernails painted purple.

Klaus runs his hands over the fabric of his pants and shirt, over his skin, trailing his fingertips lightly on his collarbone, lingering on his neck.

There is is, he thinks smugly– the thirsty viewers are already getting hot under their collars. Well. Klaus is thirsty too. So he cracks open his first beer and he _takes a fuckin’ sip, babes._

He talks with them for a while about whatever, all the while drinking down the beer and starting to fidget just the slightest amount.

“Ooookay. I know it’s a sweet look, but I bet you’re all just waiting to see me take it off. So impatient.” Klaus takes off his shirt, looking impishly up at the camera. What his viewers don’t know, but he is growing ever more acutely aware of, is that he’s got a vibrating butt plug inside him already, turned off, but the remote’s right there next to him. Still, when Klaus squirms as the beer starts to add to what’s already in his bladder, the plug momentarily goes right up against his prostate and makes him whimper. “Mnh. Yeah, I have some surprises for you, you’ll see.”

He plays with his nipples, tugs on them a little, thinks about maybe getting them pierced again, because that would be real smoking hot. “Ah– I’ll leave my choker on, because I like to–” He pulls on the choker’s ring, gasps for air. “Fuck! Don’t try that at home.”

The comments come faster and faster, and Klaus feels himself getting _hard._

He teases at his dick through his pants, knowing that new viewers have probably definitely seen his Umbrella Academy tattoo by now, and honestly, that’s like the cherry on top. Fucking over daddy dearest by fucking himself online for money. Bringing sweet sweet shame upon the family name. Delicious.

“Wish I had someone to get off right now,” he says after polishing off his first beer. “Getting someone off first always makes me much more desperate.” He opens the next beer and drinks half of it, despite the fact that he’s visibly getting more antsy by the minute. Desperate in more ways than just one, but only his special, more private audience knows _that_ as of yet.

Klaus slips his hands under his pants and underwear, keeps on keepin’ on with that maddeningly gentle stroking. He thinks back to Derek, and Lucy, and Ophelia and Ashton, thinks about that time Chloe had sat on his face and pulled his hair while he ate her out like a man starving, the time Sean had brought Finn over for a threesome and they’d both fucked Klaus at the same time, one dick in his mouth and the other in his ass, and like… fuck, Klaus had seen stars that night. 

He grabs hold of the remote, holds it up close to the camera. “About time for that surprise, yeah?” He starts it on low, moaning as he grinds down onto the plug. “You know what I’ve got, right? Goddamn, it’s _good._ ” He undoes his pants, pulls them down with only a tiny bit of fumbling that he’s sure is endearing. “Look at that,” he says, pulling his dick out of his underwear, circling his fingers around the tip that’s so, so wet with precome. “Look how worked up I am, Jesus fuck. I’ve been wearing it this whole time, even… ah… hours before we started.”

His comments are blowing up again. 

(He has to piss so bad.)

He pauses from his grinding to chug the rest of the beer, wipes his mouth off with the back of his hand. And now he takes off his underwear in full (the very slutty pale pink mesh ones), spreads his legs and shifts his hips up so his lovely fans can get a picture perfect view. “Now I don’t about you… but I’d love to see how fast this thing can go.”

It kind of pains Klaus to keep his legs spread when he’s gotta go. No, not pains. Not yet. But that warm ache that sets in when he’s well and truly desperate is starting up. Cute, but it’s gonna wait for a while.

Klaus ramps the thing up to the mid-level setting, grabs hold of the base and starts hitting it up against his prostate in earnest. “Yeah, yeah, that’s– agh, man.”

He tugs at his collar again, feels the air pulled out of his lungs, the only brush with death that he can really get behind. And then, he puts it up to the highest setting, no hesitation, no warning, fucks it inside himself good and hard, mouth letting out just the most beautiful sounds. He’s practically drooling, he feels lighter than air.

Klaus jerks his needy cock, says some much less intelligible nonsense, and there it is! An electric orgasm to rattle all his hinges.

His tokens come pouring in, and he’s made some steep change, so he thanks his viewers from the bottom of his heart as always, and they start gradually filing out.

But the show isn’t over yet.

Once it’s dwindled to his kink audience, Klaus squirms more openly. “Damn. You all better be grateful I practice at this so much. That was so hard on my bladder.” He takes out the plug, groaning as he does, relishing in feeling all fucked-out and open wide. “Be right back, my darling dears.”

He haphazardly wipes his mess up with a towel he finds in his bathroom, then puts his pants back on, no shirt, no underwear. They’re perfect for making another sort of mess in. He brings the bathroom towel with him, folding it up so he can sit on top of it, third beer in hand. “I wanna see if I can drink one last drink, just to test my limits. But I’m holding so mu- _uuch._ Might turn into a real big problem soon.”

Klaus squeezes his legs together as he tries gulping down as much as possible, as quickly as possible. His bladder protests this angrily, and he uses his free hand to hold himself tight. “Hnn, shit. Shit! I really gotta go. I drank lots of water before this. Can’t get dehydrated, you know? I’ve been holding it for hours.”

And he still holds it for fifteen minutes more, once he finishes the third beer.

He’s getting some good tokens from these loyal fans, looks like enough to buy that cute cheerleader-looking skirt he’s wanted for a while (and sure, food and drugs and a roof over his head).

That’s the last coherent thought his brain can render for a while, because immediately after considering that, all he can think about it how really and truly bad he has to pee. He scrunches up the towel he’s sitting on and presses it tight between his legs, wincing. “Now it’s starting to ache like hell. I wanna keep holding it for you, I _like_ how much it hurts.”

Klaus looks down and sees how much the visible proof of how much that liquid’s filled him up– the little bulge of his stomach that tells him he could have close to a liter in there. “Fuck, but it’s so full.” He rubs his hand over it, biting his lip. He pokes at it with a finger, then he slowly, steadily presses his hand down.

A little spurt is forced out as he does, and Klaus whines, shoves the towel tighter against himself. “Not gonna last much longer. This is so fucking hot. You want me to press down again? That makes it a thousand times worse. I wanna let go so bad.”

Of course they want him to, so of course he does. This time, he manages to hold back, but the second he tries pulling his other hand away from his crotch, he loses more, and this time it’s a longer leak. He’s curling in on himself, pressing at his bladder, and it gets to the point where his body’s just had enough.

The towel isn’t going to be big enough to absorb everything, so Klaus has to stand after like thirty seconds, let it all rush out of him as it patters on the floor and hisses in his tight pants. His knees go weak with relief, and he would drop way down to them if he didn’t also want to stay in the webcam’s range.

It’s a second, longer orgasm right on the heels of the first.

Klaus feels like it takes forever before he even feels half empty, and longer still before his raging stream fizzles out to a total stop.

He’s blushing all over his face and he knows it. Funny how he’s so immune to any kind of delicacy in all things, but this right here always manages to still feel fresh and vulnerable and wild.

“Ahh, that feels so much better,” he sighs. His hands are damp from where he’d been holding himself, and his pants are going to need a thorough scrubbing before he can consider wearing them again. “Loved every second of that. And I hope you did too–? Oh! You sure did. I’m glad I got so many of you off. Twice in a row even, wow. All in a night’s work.”

He gets so much love from these strangers, and it’s just… really delightful, to be able to make a living doing something he loves.

Klaus blows them some kisses, signs out, and takes a good shower.

When he comes out, one towel wrapped around his middle and one atop his head, Ben is back, and pointedly trying not to look at the still-unmopped puddle next to Klaus’ bed. “Did I tell you I was ready for your company again?”

Ben scoffs, shakes his head. “You really didn’t. Being a ghost is boring, though. Had to take my chances.”

“Hm. And do you regret it yet? Are you even going to ask?”

“If I had any money, I’d pay you to not tell me.”

“And that’s completely fair.”

**Author's Note:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) 
> 
>  


End file.
